


Mirror ball revisited

by caixa



Series: Real Fun 43 [2]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, I cry bitter tears bc Gareth's poor ankle plays a big part in this, Injury talk, Karim does a Hitchcock style cameo, M/M, Okay this is inexcusable trash, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pole Dancing, Porn with Feelings, Real Madrid CF, Sequel, Shameless Smut, Threesome - M/M/M, Unnecessary Neil Young quotes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-08 20:49:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10395780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caixa/pseuds/caixa
Summary: “They named it after you, Cristiano”, Gareth notices. “I guess we didn’t leave that bad a mess last time, after all.”“We can give it another shot”, Cristiano says.“It’s not the same without James”, Gareth complains.“I gave him a key.”After another imaginary game in the still unnamed foreign town Cristiano gets the same room again.Hot sex ensues.(The easiest most accurate summary I've written!)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little something I’ve written in bits and pieces to unwind whenever I have been stuck with my other writing or angry/frustrated about some outside issues.  
> It happens in the same setting as the first part of this series (that was never meant to be a series), Somewhere safer.
> 
> I hope you don't mind me having posted this in two chapters. It's basically a finished one-shot, only divided in two.
> 
> All quotes are from songs on the album “Mirror Ball” by Neil Young (1995). The songs are listed in the end notes of each chapter.

**_Hey ho away we go, we’re on the road to never  
Where life’s a joy for girls and boys and only will get better._ **

 

”You got the suite again? I’m envious”, Gareth moans.

Cristiano glances at him sideways. “You’re more than welcome to visit, you know that”, he replies and raises his eyebrows; the expression is ridiculously flirty and inviting. “Stay as long as you want.”

Gareth yawns. “Thanks but I think I’m crashing to bed. I could use some sleep.”

Cristiano looks at him and shakes his head slowly. “Do you really think you want to sleep tonight?” he asks but before Gareth gets to answer he is interrupted by an electric beep. Two lifts arrive simultaneously and their doors slide softly open.

Gareth takes the one on the right, the one with no buttons inside, only a card reader with a fresh engraving next to it. He leans on the railing on the back wall and flashes Cristiano a smile.

“I didn’t say which bed, though”, he says.

Cristiano smirks and touches the reader with his key card. The lift doors slide shut and they take off.

Gareth brushes his fingertip over the engraving.  ** _CR7 SUITE_** , it reads.

“They named it after you, Cristiano”, Gareth notices. “I guess we didn’t leave that bad a mess last time, after all.”

“We can give it another shot”, Cristiano says.

“It’s not the same without James”, Gareth complains.

The lift stops. Cristiano looks up at the doors that start sliding apart and steps into the room. The plush carpet doesn’t make a sound under his footsteps.

“I gave him a key”, he tells nonchalantly and grins over his shoulder.

“What the hell is he doing anywhere else, then?” Gareth exclaims, laughter in his melodic voice, and shakes his head in disbelief. “James should get his priorities right. He’s missing out. Badly.”

Cristiano turns around on his feet so fast that Gareth bumps into him. He places his hands on both sides of Gareth’s waist, bows his head and looks him deep in the eye from under his brows.

“Do you really miss him, Gareth?” he asks in a soft, deep voice.

Gareth doesn’t have to answer that with anything else than a widening smile. “This is just fine”, he replies, voice not much louder than a breath, lips almost touching Cristiano’s.

Cristiano kisses him, deep, commanding, the way he knows Gareth wants and needs it tonight, after a game that wavered just on the meeting point of horrible, solid and mediocre, a hard fought point from a frustrating goalless draw away from home.

Gareth loves it like this, Cristiano's moist open mouth, tongues touching, hard body pressing tight to his. He knows his soft sweatpants are no help in hiding his prominent erection which could any other day be embarrassing but this time it isn't. It just. Is. And will be taken care of, if Cristiano's body keeps the promises it is giving.

But not just yet. Gareth groans in disappointment when Cristiano breaks the kiss, pulls apart and turns away. Cris takes a slow walk around the rooms to check that everything is in order: if it isn't, he'll rather have it corrected right away than later in the night. Gareth follows him, hand loosely on his hip, like he was afraid Cristiano will vanish from him if he doesn't stay in close touch.

"How much did they have to pay you for using your name?" he asks Cris.

"I got a fair deal", Cristiano answers, patting Gareth's hand palming his hip, "They promised not to install cameras."

Gareth laughs. "That's fair, all right", he admits.

"And I got the tape from last time."

Gareth might have a moment of suspicion if Cristiano didn't glance over his shoulder to see if Gareth buys it. But no, he's not fooled. "Ha ha. Like anybody uses tapes anymore."

Cristiano has to stop and turn around to start kissing Gareth again; the Welshman is so adorable when he's like this, sizzling with sexual energy, needy and hungry for touch and attention. All his smiles and giggles, the twinkle in his blue eyes, the way he brushes Cristiano's clothes with his knuckles tell the same tale: they are flirty microgestures that might go unnoticed if Cris didn't know him so well.

Cristiano scoots in Gareth's space, almost touching, air between their bodies rippling with shared warmth, body heat. He places one hand on the back of Gareth's neck, rubs it firmly, takes a steady grip.

He hears Gareth gasp and he swears he feels Gareth's knees buckle slightly for a split second.

"You're so horny, baby", Cris murmurs under his hot breath to the side of Gareth's mouth, nibbles the corner of his lip with his own.

Gareth doesn't say a thing, he just pants and breaths and waits and  _feels_. Cristiano's warm solid steel hand on his hairline, on the back of his neck, the other hand cupping his hard dick through the sweatpants, Cristiano's mouth on his face, Cristiano's every muscle radiating sweet heat into his body.  _Give me more, give me anything. I want want want it_.

Cristiano reads Gareth's body loud and clear.

“You’re such a slut, Gareth. Just waiting to be my little bitch tonight”, he says and Gareth wishes he had the strength not to get so turned on when Cristiano talks in his ear like this.

“Yes sir”, he manages to pant and Cristiano lets out a pleased chuckle next to his cheek. Cristiano’s breath burns all the way to Gareth’s ear and is followed by soft pecks on his cheek, until Cristiano cups his bearded jawline and turns his head back his way for another deep kiss.

This is so, so good. Gareth has missed it so, so much and if everything about him gives it away, well, he doesn’t give a fuck. It’s supposed to.

Cristiano’s both hands dig deep down Gareth’s sweatpants and slide in his briefs, one front, another back. Their kiss is open, deep and sloppy, two mouths together in a hungry wet mess, and the hands – they’re going straight to the goal, nothing fancy. The grit that failed them on the pitch today is working fine now, Cristiano’s middle finger is dry but he coaxes it in, weighing Gareth’s heavy balls on his other hand before sliding it back up to grab his cock.

Gareth takes it all in, overly sensitized already, lives and breathes and feels Cristiano through his skin, tastes him in his mouth, grateful of everything he gets but wanting more at the same time. He clenches the thin fabric of Cristiano’s shirt with both fists and gathers it with his fingers, wanting to rip it apart, he NEEDS that body on him.

Gareth’s hands find their way under the shirt, tracing the outlines of Cristiano’s muscles in feverish movements. He digs his fingers in Cristiano’s back, grinding his hips back and forth to Cristiano’s hands that get him so heated, good GOD, they need to get in bed soon.

Cristiano has the same idea. He starts slowly walking them towards the bed, loosening the kiss, his hands still in Gareth’s pants. The finger in Gareth’s ass takes a slightly different angle with each step, following the work of his buttock muscles. Gareth can’t really tell whether it’s irritating or stimulating but in the end he decides it’s good. In fact it feels so sensational he almost sighs of disappointment when they reach the bedside and Cristiano’s hands and mouth leave him for the moment of helping them both out of their clothes.

Cristiano sits down on the generously sized bed and leans his back to taupe satin pillows and the high padded headboard. He looks at Gareth, eyes sinfully darkened, legs apart, big cock close to full erection.

Gareth climbs on his knees next to him and leans in for a kiss. Cristiano slides his hand down the Welshman’s long back. “Shit your ass is white as milk”, Cristiano murmurs when he reaches the round buttocks, devouring the pale skin covering the firm full roundness with his eyes.

“It’s winter. People wear clothes”, Gareth says between kisses.

“I know. But soon I can’t tell my cum from your skin.”

Gareth growls, too much talking. “We’re not there yet”, he pants.

“I wish James was here”, Cristiano whispers as he strokes Gareth’s ass, “I want to fuck you and come all over you and make James lick it off your body. I want to see it.”

“Fuck James”, Gareth says, barely getting the words out under his breath. “I mean, he’s not here. I am. I want you.”

Cristiano’s done with teasing. He detaches from the kiss and ducks under Gareth’s face to reach a bottle of lube from the bedside table. He hands the package to Gareth and caresses his hair. “Please, open yourself up for me, baby”, he says and nods to the wall behind the foot of the bed; there’s a large mirror in an angle that gives a full reflection of the king-size mattress. “Give me a good show”, Cris says, eyes gleaming, “I want to watch you.”

Gareth takes the bottle without saying a word and squirts a pile of gel on his hand, fisting and curling it to spread the lube all over his fingers.

He shifts on the bed, moves himself between Cristiano’s spread legs. “Spread ‘em wider”, he grunts and crouches down, face close to Cristiano’s genitals. The area is luxuriously hairless and smooth, Gareth loves the velvety feel of Cristiano’s perky round balls on his tongue almost as much as his taste.

He licks Cristiano’s cock from base to tip and back down, keeping an eye on Cristiano’s face. The chocolate brown lustful gaze follows him but focuses every now and then further to check the mirror where Gareth is just sliding in the first finger, slower than needed.

Gareth’s thighs are spread as wide as possible to make sure his ass is nicely stretched. He inserts a second finger and makes a small rolling movement with his hips, pushing his chest down and flaunting his ass high up, moving his fingers out and in, out and _deeper_ in, varying the angle of his hand as much as he can to give Cristiano a generous view.

“Oh yes… just like that”, he hears Cristiano pant, and he can be talking about the way Gareth is fingering himself or the way his mouth works between Cristiano’s thighs, his tongue has just slid its way from his balls to his ass, and yes please, Cris is lifting his spread knees higher to give him a better entrance. Gareth twists and swirls his tongue, wiggles his fingers to his own ass and his ass to his fingers, when he feels a pull in his hair.

Cris gently lifts Gareth’s face up by the Welshman’s tousled bun. “Come here”, he says in a soft, thick voice.

Gareth follows, crawls back up the bed as Cristiano lowers his knees down. Gareth straddles his lap, their hard cocks touch until Gareth moves further up and Cristiano’s cock is now behind him, butting his ass. Gareth makes a riding movement to it, lets the hardness rub against his skin.

Cristiano strokes Gareth’s cock slowly, almost loosely, eyes locked in his. “What do you want, baby? Do you want to ride me?” he asks.

Gareth leans in to give him little kisses on his lips. “Yes”, he whispers, “I want to spear myself with your huge cock, my dear Cris”, he continues batting his eyelashes and elicits a pleased moan from Cristiano when he enhances his words with brushing his slick hand over the underside of Cristiano’s cock, pressing it tighter to his buttocks.

“Always so hot, Gareth”, Cristiano sighs.

“You know I am”, Gareth answers and his thighs tense to lift his body high enough to guide Cristiano in.

Gareth’s ass has contracted back a little but not too much, it’s just tight enough to give Cristiano’s cock a good squeeze, the kind that makes him gasp and moan when Gareth slides down on him. Cristiano digs his fingers hard in the milky white hips, he knows the spots will burn red but hardly remain as bruises, and thrusts into Gareth while pulling him down.

Gareth goes exactly where he’s guided, presses down as tight as he can. It’s been a while since the last time and the stretch is almost unbearable – or an almost unbearable pleasure.

Gareth is vaguely aware of the noises he’s letting out of his mouth but he’s not listening to himself. His senses are centered on feeling Cristiano on and inside him right now, the hands that guide his hips up and down, fingertips digging in his skin so hard, the heavenly cock going deep in, oh GODD, it’s close to explode him.

 

_**You’re surrounded by these walls and neon lights** _  
_**Hungry people move like waves behind the beat** _  
_**Where’s the big drum, where’s the feel of body heat?** _

James is definitely in the wrong place. He followed Marcelo and Toni to the club without thinking much at all. He doesn't have too fond memories of the place: getting drunk on shots of different alcohols, each tasting less like poison only compared to the next one, and having his ankle stabbed with a nail sharp stiletto heel are not his idea of fun, come to think of it.

He thought the whole team was coming but no. He hates to admit that that's the main reason to his sunken mood because all the guys who actually _are_ there are a great bunch of people, but... he won't take the thought further, not now.

He leaves the dance floor when he realizes the music is not getting any better, goes to sip a drink which is also not getting any better and can think of only one way to make the night any better.

James feels it in his pocket and wonders what the hell he is even doing here when he has the key to Cristiano Ronaldo’s hotel room.

 

**_The act of love was slowly pounding_ **

James makes a mental note for his future memoir.  _I can tell one or two things about Gareth Bale, not necessarily the fact that yes, that big mouth gives some world class oral sex, but I could slip out the piece of information that he can, for a quiet guy, be occasionally very vocal_.

He hears it muffled in the private lift when it approaches the top floor suite and the volume goes up as soon as the doors crack open.

"O-ooh fuck I love you cris jee-SUS CHRIST YOU'RE HUGE YOU SPLIT ME IN HALF!"

James can’t help grinning. This is, definitely, the place to be tonight.

He undresses his jacket quietly and toes off his shoes. He approaches the bedroom carefully, unbuckles his belt and pulls it off the belt loops. He’s left dressed in a white sleeveless tank top, distressed jeans that hang low revealing his hipbones and a platinum necklace that looks like a soldier’s tag from afar but the pendant on the ball chain is actually a flat rounded square with an embossed crucifix.

The sight that greets him - It’s fucking beautiful. _Hot_ , he thinks when he reaches the doorway to the bedroom.

The loud Welshman is taking a wild ride with all the muscle power of his strong, lean thighs. Gareth’s long torso pumps forcefully up and down, plump white ass spread around the bronze-toned cock that moves rhythmically in and out the obscenely stretched hole, like a fleshy piston pumping inside some ridiculously testosterone-loaded engine. He is straddling Cristiano who’s leaning to the headboard of the bed in a half sitting position, brown eyes fixated on Gareth’s face.

Gareth is on his knees, feet towards the door. The big feet make the tall, sturdy winger look somehow adorably fragile these days: there’s an elastic support around his ankle and most of his long toes are wrapped in medical tape. Along with the small surgery scars and the kinesio taping he usually has at least one or two spots on his body he sometimes reminds James of an action figure doll that has been duct taped together after being played with tough love for years.

Cristiano guides Gareth’s movement with his large hands on his hips and obviously enjoys the response he’s hearing.

“Yes, baby, you like that? Can’t get enough?”

Gareth’s answer is a growling moan when he slides down Cristiano’s cock and it hits him inside very _very_ pleasurably.

James isn’t quite sure if those two actually _need_ company right now but his hardening cock tells him that he sure as hell wants to get his share of this. Sooner or later, he will.

Sooner, please, tells the silent voice in his tightening jeans.

****

**_Goin’ down like a whirlpool when you get sucked in_**  

_Modern Latin James Dean,_ a photo shoot director said once when James posed for a fashion campaign spread in a glossy magazine. He looked up some movie clips on YouTube and has noticed he can drive Cristiano wild when he does the act.

James-not-Dean buries his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans, crouches his shoulders like a shield from the world, lets a little smile linger in the corners of his eyes and lips even though he frowns and pouts and looks up from under his brows, knowingly vulnerable and defiant at the same time.

He leans on the wide wooden frame of the bedroom door, weight on one foot, kicking the plush carpet idly with toes of the other one, leg hanging relaxed from the tilted hip, bent on the knee.

"Hi, guys", he mutters low in his husky voice and the two faces turn his way. He sees the open swollen lips, darkened eyes; Cristiano’s ever-tanned face gleams from a light sheen of sweat, Gareth’s earlobes are tinted pink and heated red blotches burn on his pale Welsh neck and chest.

Gareth picks up a pillow and throws it at James. "Fuck off", he manages to grunt, panting, "..oh. You'r..hh...ntruding."

Cristiano lifts one hand off Gareth's ass to touch his face; James can see red marks burning on the white flesh where his fingers have been. Cris pushes his torso upright, cups the Welshman's bearded jaw and gives his mouth a brief deep kiss. James can see the tongue working.

"Be nice, Gareth", Cris scolds softly. “He can do nice things to you.” Cristiano’s eyes turn to James. “Can’t you, James?”

James shifts his weight to the other foot, careful not to drop his James Dean act, lets his cheeks crinkle in a smile, lips closed. “Sure”, he says after a moment of silence, pushes himself slowly off the doorframe and strolls closer to the bed.

Gareth sits almost still on Cristiano’s lap. The cock that’s still up his ass tempts him to slowly roll his hips around it in tiny movements that look terribly sexy, the small lower back muscles tense and relax each in their turn and every now and then Cristiano gasps a little and his eyelashes flutter, so it must feel pretty nice as well.

James sits down on the edge of bed. He leans in and touches Gareth’s neck with his fingers, feather lightly; he leans further and kisses the side of his neck, shifts on the bed to his knees and finds Gareth’s mouth for a kiss.

He’s amazed Gareth lets him do it. He even opens his moist mouth to James, sucks his tongue. It’s not that long since there was a pillow flying his way.

Cristiano wants a kiss, too. James feels his hand on the back of his neck, turning his face Cristiano’s way and he kisses him gladly before turning back to Gareth. He glances shamelessly down on Gareth’s erect cock that stands like a lonely soldier between the two bodies. It could definitely like some attention and care, James thinks and lifts his eyes back up to meet Gareth’s.

“I can suck your cock”, he suggests.

Cristiano thinks it’s a great idea. “Gareth”, he says, “could you turn the other way?”

Gareth is not too crazy about tricky sex positions, because if it gets too clumsy and awkward it can be a bit of a downer, but he’s too far into wanting this to say no to the chance of having James’ mouth on his dick. So he lifts himself enough to ease Cristiano’s hard cock out. Cris props himself up on to sit on his knees and pulls Gareth straddled backwards in his lap, strokes his shoulders and back with a warm, steady hand and kisses the back of his neck before gliding back in.

James has stood up by the bed to take off the rest of his clothes and comes back to the bed naked. He positions himself on his knees between Cristiano’s and Gareth’s legs. He kisses Gareth softly, letting their tongues touch, before he starts traveling down with his lips.

James leaves Gareth’s mouth slowly, sucks his bottom lip, kisses the little cavity on his skin below the lips; he opens his mouth to graze the hairy tip of Gareth’s chin gently with his teeth, glides wetly down his neck, stopping to suck in the skin a couple of times. He remembers quite well the bite marks Gareth left on him the last time and is willing to return the favour.

Gareth smiles, arching his neck for the feeling. His eyes are blissfully closed, red blush tints the skin on his collarbones, the hue fading down his chest.

James crawls slowly backwards as he wanders further down with his mouth. He licks a slow wet spiral around one dark, sensitive nipple, moves across the wide chest to the other one and gives it a sharp suck that makes Gareth gasp.

Cristiano supports Gareth over his lap, making a slow, minimal scoop with his hips, up and down, in and out. Gareth’s body throbs, pulsates around his cock to the rhythm of James’ mouth moving down his abs.

Cristiano senses how delicate yet intense pleasure Gareth is feeling; he hears from it from his gasps and moans that intensify the closer down James gets. He peeks around Gareth’s shoulder to see James’ movement because ambition kicks in and Cris wants to get his timing right. He wants to give Gareth an explosive orgasm that leaves a him a steaming limp wreck, glowing and bursting with all possible emotions at once, because it’s such a treat to see him like that.

Finally. James bows down gracefully as a nodding flower, opens his mouth, licks tentatively a glistening drop of translucent precum off the crimson-purple tip of Gareth’s standing dick, gives another, wider lick along the slit, draws small wet circles on the bulging head with the tip of his tongue. Gareth looks down on his work, licks his parted lips, gasps superficial short breaths out of the feeling of sheer stimulation, fights the urge to shove his hips forward to sink his cock in that sweet teasing mouth.

Cristiano helps him in the fight by locking Gareth’s hips in place with an iron grip, his thumbs on Gareth’s buttocks stretch them apart as much as he can; he starts slowly fucking Gareth’s ass, watches his own cock move in and out. From the corner of his eye he sees James proceed: James closes his lips around the shaft of Gareth’s cock, circles the base in his hand and quite clearly does some nice work with his tongue, considering the loud moans Gareth’s mouth starts spewing in the air.

“Oh- ooh CHRIST boys fuck I can’t… fuckFUCK that’s good”, he sputters shakily. He feasts his eyes on James’ beautiful, concentrated face sucking his cock as long as he can, until Cristiano and James hit him so deep it’s too intense and too good and he can’t do anything but close his eyes and throw his head backward, cry his moans towards the ceiling. Cristiano is there, leans his shoulder forward to support him, Cristiano’s head presses to his arching neck, his breath is hot on Gareth’s neck when he whispers _“I got you, I got you sweet, so fucking hot, Gaz, your ass is so fucking good.”_

Cristiano’s cock hits inside Gareth so good it _burns_. Cris _slams_ to his ass and controls the hit just enough not to knock James’ teeth in. James bobs his head up and down, has Gareth’s cock in and out, out and deeper in, his mouth is hot and wet all around, tongue milking the veins, sucked-in cheeks massaging him and it’s achingly good. Gareth feels the pressure of extreme pleasure packing hotter and tighter inside him, he’s climbing higher and higher. “I’m, I’m…” he stutters, no coherent words coming out, he gropes around James’ hair as if to give him a warning but the Colombian only takes it in _deeper_ , good god, is that his throat?

Cristiano pushes in, the skin slamming to his ass hard like spanking, the magnificent cock all the way inside.

Gareth just bursts, flies sky high, he’s deep inside his own head and far outside it at the same time. His whole body tingles, he could swear every hair on his skin stands straight if he observed anything on a conscious level; he comes in a billowing rush, almost ashamed that James has to swallow it all down but loving every second of the sensational feeling when he does.

James lets him go slowly, rolls to his side on the foot of the large bed. Cristiano is not finished yet and he still has his original plan to carry out. He bends the man on his lap forward until Gareth lies almost on his stomach ass up above curled spread knees, chest down on the bed, and fucks the hot loosened ass until he’s close to coming, pulls out and lets his seed pulse out in splashes and ropes over Gareth’s buttocks, some all the way to the small of his back.

Cristiano collapses back to the pillows, panting and spent.

“James”, he says when he catches his breath. “Could you use that pretty mouth a bit more? I think you should clean up that spunk off Gareth’s ass. I wanna see you lick it.”

James crawls lazily up the bed on his elbows and knees and looks at the said place. “You’re so white, Gareth”, he says. “I can’t tell your cum from his skin, Cris.”

Cristiano lets out a pleased, relaxed laughter.

“What did I tell you, Welsh boy? You’re white as milk.”

“You like me like that”, Gareth mutters, too softened and tired and sated to lift his cheek off the bed.

James leans down over the milky white Welsh ass and starts lapping, of course he does. Gareth feels his wide wet tongue sweeping his skin and lifts his eyelids enough to peek in the mirror how the sweet boy does it, he laps it up like a kitten, smiling between the licks to Cristiano’s direction.

Gareth smiles, too. It’s a bit pervy and a lot hot. Man, he thought his cock wouldn’t twitch under his belly quite this soon after coming so good and hard but because the sight is so nice, it does, and Gareth likes it. He takes it as a hint that the night is far from over.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources in order of the quotes:  
> 1\. Song X  
> 2\. Fallen Angel  
> 3\. Act of Love  
> 4\. Downtown
> 
> *<3*
> 
> Thanks for reading sweethearts, please share your thoughts!


	2. Chapter 2

 

**_Throw your hatred down_ **

 

Gareth wakes up to hearing a wash of water. He takes a moment to reorient himself: oh yeah, he’s lying down thoroughly fucked, sticky and gross in the king size bed of Cristiano’s lavish hotel room, double drained from the game and the sex. It’s still dark; he’s sure he hasn’t been off for much more than 20 minutes.

He feels nicely relaxed and unwound too. He has needed something like this.

Tonight’s game was another one where he felt off his normal self. The faint but fuming red streak of aggression that flames through under his skin when he gets tackled and takes it back on the next guy, or when the ball hits the goalpost – the way he reacts to frustration is uncomfortable, unfamiliar and probably unhealthy. He should grow out of it, get back to his usual stable optimism, soon.

The water flows behind a thick sheet of frosted glass on the side of the large bedroom; a sliding door separates an almost spa-like on-suite bathroom from the bedroom. Gareth learned it on his last stay in this room; there was a heart-shaped (really, like _really_ , everything that can be tacky _is_ tacky here) tub with shiny golden faucets and a shower stall large enough for washing a Shire horse.

For some reason he is convinced that Cristiano is, right now, blowing James in the shower. He sees it in his mind as clearly as it was before his eyes. Water pouring like rain from the oversized showerhead in the ceiling all over them, flowing down the sculpted muscles of Cristiano’s back, his rock hard buttocks and thighs that support him kneeling on the gold and black marble floor, washing over James’ face, hooded eyes, wet hair. The perfect curve of Cristiano’s lips around the hard cock, agile tongue making quick little licks, soft here, sharp there.

Damn. He’s almost ready to jerk off to his own imagination when he comes to his senses. It’s not like the bathroom is locked or off-limits. He might as well go and check the situation.

He’s polite and makes a pit stop in the separate toilet first.

When Gareth enters the mini spa, the shower is still running. Cristiano and James are leaning their backs on the opposite walls of the shower stall, dripping wet. Cristiano is sitting on the floor, James half-stands on legs that seem mildly shaky.

Both are beaming. Gareth smiles at them and his own moment of clairvoyance and steps between them in the shower.

 

**_Expert witnesses on the brutal crimes of love_ **

James is in his underwear when Gareth comes out of the shower. Gareth thinks it’s because the Colombian knows he’s ridiculously cute like that, in his white underpants and and ribbed white tank top showing off his tattoos.

Cristiano has found a hotel bathrobe to wear. It follows the style of the décor in its dark rich colours, heavy silk material and ornate pattern.

Cris goes to the cabinet for another one and throws it across the air to Gareth, it flies flapping but he reaches it.

Cristiano stretches his arms wide and smiles, it’s a big lazy grin that makes one of his eyes droop to an almost-wink. “You two babes were so fucking hot”, he beams languidly. “I need a bit of fresh air.”

Gareth knows he’s going to the balcony of the room, a long, narrow rooftop terrace over the other floors, overlooking a dark, quiet side street.

It was so lonely and peaceful that he dared to kiss with Cristiano there, out in the open. Gareth doesn’t think anybody knows how much it meant to him, how it squeezed his heart in a tight knot for a long time.

The flashback kept creeping in his mind for weeks. Sometimes the memory was vivid and raw enough to bring tears to his eyes.

He walks slowly in Cristiano’s footsteps to the living room area, James following him. They see Cris through the window, he leans over the railing and hurries back to the door.

Cristiano pops his head inside. “Come, check this out!” he whispers enthusiastically.

Gareth and James take quick strides to the balcony.

“Look!” Cristiano says and points to the building across the street. They see what he’s talking about: two girls stand in a lit room, close to the window. One is blonde, the other one brunette; they both have long wavy hair, the shorter brunette appears naked but maybe they just don’t see the panties, the taller blonde wears lace lingerie.

Gareth leans as far over the railing as he reaches. _Not so scared of heights now_ , Cristiano thinks amused. “Nice rack”, Gareth comments smiling, “Please, please, turn!” he mutters to himself, because the brunette who has turned her back to the window can’t possibly hear him.

James nudges Cristiano’s elbow with his. “He’s funny”, he chuckles, nodding Gareth’s way.

The girls in the window kiss, hands in each other’s hair, swirling slowly like they were dancing a slow dance; the blonde moves her hands to the brunette’s full tits and the boys break out in catcalls.

“Go on, lovely ladies”, Cristiano coos.

Gareth wraps his arm across Cristiano’s shoulders. “Thanks, mate”, he says and squeezes the size of Cristiano’s neck, leaving his hand there, keeping his eyes peeled for their temporary neighbours.

Another figure enters the room across the street and approaches the kissing girls. It’s taller; it’s a man. He’s wearing only a pair of white jeans and he walks between the girls and the window, places his hands on each of the girls’ shoulders, breaks their kiss and kisses both in their turn.

Then he turns to the window, reaches to his sides and pulls curtains over the window.

Gareth, Cris and James look at each other, eyes widened, and shake their heads in astonishment.

“Did you see it? Was it…”

“Yeah, definitely! It was Karim, wasn’t it?”

“Benz?”

“Benzo!”

“Oh man. Karim, Karim. Was he at the club, James?”

“Yeah, he was.”

“Found company, obviously.”

The show over, the trio head back inside, chuckling and giggling, nudging each other with elbows in a sense of shared camaraderie after the moment of accidental voyeurism.

Just before getting in, Gareth steps badly on the edge of the tiled threshold and flinches from pain when his supported ankle is bent sideways. Cristiano notices the flinch immediately and takes Gareth’s arm. They limp through the door and James joins Cris to help Gareth on the curving sofa near the balcony door.

Gareth leans his head on the armrest and Cristiano takes his foot in his lap. He rips the Velcro open, strips Gareth’s ankle of the elastic support and feels the ankle. Gareth grimaces in spite of himself.

“James, can you see my gym bag? I have some ice packs there. Could you get one here, please?” Cristiano asks.

James spots the bag and comes back with a couple of flat plastic packages, folds one to break the cooling plate in the middle and hands it to Cris.

Cristiano wraps it around Gareth’s bare ankle and keeps the foot supported by the heel.

“Poor you”, he says to Gareth, worry in his eyes, and caresses the ball of Gareth’s foot slowly with his fingers.

This time Gareth giggles despite himself. “You tickle me”, he says and sighs when Cristiano stops.

“Was the surgery no good? Did you come back too soon?” James asks, hoping Gareth doesn’t hold his questions intrusive.

“No, it went well. And I wouldn’t be let back if it wasn’t good.” Gareth sighs again, looking into the ceiling. It’s weird, he thinks, how comfortably he has been getting off with these teammates but when it comes to revealing any vulnerability that could affect his game, he instinctively gets guarded, wary of dressing room politics, the competitiveness that’s always lingering in somewhere in the back of his mind.

“I get it”, Cris saves him. “It’s just one of those things. It’ll pass.”

Gareth hums quietly, he feels safer now. “Fucking tendon and ligament damages”, he huffs, frustration in his quiet voice. “When they go once, they go easier again.” He sneers a bit. “But it’s just – you just deal with it. I don’t want to end up a fucking _wreck_.”

Cristiano looks at him sternly, jaw tensed. “You’re fine, Gareth”, he says. “Fine.”

 

**_Need entertainment tonight_ **

James gets them water bottles from the fridge and sits on the edge of a heavy, oval coffee table in front of the sofa to sip his.

They look so funny in their matching bathrobes like that, Cristiano and Gareth, different but the same, polar opposites inevitably drawn together by the very laws of physics. Cristiano the Muscle & Fitness poster boy sitting in his poised arm-on-the-backrest pose like he’s going to post this on Instagram, idly stroking Gareth’s long leg that rests on his lap; Gareth sprawled with his tall dexterous limbs, like a high jumper or a pole vaulter just landed from a jump, thinning tousled hair up in a messy bun, lazily attempting to tickle Cristiano’s side with the toes of his free foot.

“Look at you. Like an old married couple”, James teases. “You look like your next activity would be nodding off in front of the TV.”

Gareth takes a cushion from under his head, attempts to throw it at James but decides he needs it for comfort and puts it back. Cristiano drops his head down, closes his eyes and pretends to snore.

“Are you saying we’re boring?” he asks lifting his head and lets it drop back to his fake sleep.

“You’re the one who said it”, James says and shifts back on the table. He bumps his head on something hard and turns to look what it is: a metal pole goes through the coffee table, it is attached to the roof, he notices.

“Hey, this isn’t a table, it’s a pole dancing stage”, James says delighted.

A mirror ball, the one that Cristiano has once switched on accidentally, hangs from the ceiling next to it.

“You’re right”, Cristiano says, looking up in the ceiling. “So this is a nightclub area of the room, nice.”

“The best club in town”, Gareth says.

“At least the most exclusive”, Cris says, stroking Gareth’s thigh under the robe. Does he notice he’s doing that, hiking his hand up that high? He probably does, and he’s probably doing it on purpose.

“How do you switch that on?” James asks. “You did it last time.”

Cristiano gestures to the lift doors. “There’s a control panel. You find instructions near it.”

James goes to leaf through the small leaflet and taps the touch screen. It dims the lights but doesn’t do anything else.

“I’ll do it”, Cristiano says and lowers Gareth’s foot carefully on the sofa when he stands up. He’s spent some time familiarizing himself with the annoying smart control device which operates pretty much everything in the room and he fancies himself quite an expert now. Soon there are spots of light roaming on the walls and hidden speakers pump seductive rhythms from Cristiano’s music library in the air; Cris has even learned to connect his phone to the sound system installed in the room.

“Should we get girls here?” Cristiano suggests as he struts back to the sofa. “I think we should”, he answers himself. He sits down on the edge of the sofa next to Gareth and slides his hand under his robe again. “Don’t you think we should, Gareth?” he asks and strokes his thigh with a poorly hid attempt to accidentally graze his dick with the back of his hand while doing it.

“No, I don’t think we should”, Gareth says. “That’s an idiotic idea.”

“What do you need girls for? You got me”, James cuts in.

 “And no offense, but you, Cris, plus call girls or strippers in the middle of the night in a strange town, it just equals trouble. It _screams_ leaked sex videos and tabloids all over. You can’t be that stupid. Leave me out of the equation”, Gareth says, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, okay”, Cris backs off. “But you’d better make it good for me”, he continues and pouts.

Gareth and James exchange a look and burst in laughter.           

“You’re priceless, Cristiano. Never change”, Gareth says fondly, grabs the front of Cristiano’s Hugh Hefner robe and pulls him down for a kiss.

Cristiano chuckles to Gareth’s lips. He’s played a game and got his way, this is going just right.

 

**_There’s a mirror ball twirlin’_ **

James hops on the table and makes a tentative swirl around the pole, hand on his head level, then higher. He tries some non-acrobatic moves he’s seen: drops down with his back to the pole, hand over his head, takes a grip of the pole in front of him, rolls his hips to it.

Critiano whistles to him. “Somebody’s been watching Magic Mike!”

James sticks his tongue out at him. “What the fuck do you know about Magic Mike”, he laughs, hangs to one side from the pole and sways his hips sideways, licks his upper lip, looks at Cristiano, drops slowly down with a rocking move and bites his lower lip.

Cristiano makes eye contact and doesn’t let it stray. His hand strays, though, it’s under Gareth’s silk robe again, going for his cock, brushing it lightly at first, then stroking it intently.

Gareth thinks it’s a bit weird at first, but weird is the rule here, he can accept that. Soon he quits pondering what would be the friendliest way to ask Cris to stop and doesn’t. He lets his eyes rest on James dancing.

It’s actually pretty and pretty fucking sexy, it really is, Gareth thinks. James moves perfectly to the rhythm like it streamed in his veins. The tacky mirror ball lighting is surreal enough to make it all only better: James’ underwear shines overtly white, his skin looks smooth and soft and the little circles of light roam over his muscular thighs licking close every line.

James basks in their gaze, he sees what Cristiano is doing to Gareth - and, with his other hand, to himself – and quite likes the reaction. James is getting a bit hard himself but he doesn’t mind, the bulge that fills his pants makes them only look better and he is certainly going to use it to his advantage.

He lets the music rock him all the way down to his knees, the pole between his thighs, keeps one hand on its cool metal; down on his knees he leans back with the support of his abs and back muscles and thrusts with his hips, keeping his eyes locked to Cristiano’s.

James dances down low and starts rising again; he slides his hand up the pole so tightly it squeaks but it’s barely audible over the music. He smiles at Cristiano; it starts with his eyes and spreads all over his face.

Cristiano takes a little sip of water. He rises from the sofa and steps on the table-stage, inches close behind James, touches his shoulder to pull him close. James arches his back to lean to Cristiano’s chest, his hips maintaining their rocking rhythm, and Cristiano brings his hand over James’ shoulder, fondles his chin, neck and chest.

Cristiano lifts his other hand over James’ other shoulder. He has a water bottle in it; he tilts it and pours water slowly over James’ chest. It trickles on his skin and over the shirt soaking it wet, transparent; the white top clings to his skin, the lines of his pecs and abs, the cool water pebbles his nipples prominently, they stick through the wet fabric.

Cristiano empties the bottle, messes with the soaked shirt over James’ chest and stomach with his hand, cups James’ chin with his other hand and turns it to the side for a kiss. James answers it slowly but hungrily, his mouth open like in trance, one hand still hanging to the pole.

Gareth looks at them, Cris is so obnoxiously audacious doing something like that, and James is hot as fuck, kissing Cristiano, sliding his own hand down his wet transparent shirt to show off how it clings to his cute hard body, skin all slippery. James takes the hand all the way down to cup it over the bulge that stretches his pants obscenely; if his erection grows any bigger it’s not going to be held in much longer, however elastic and durable those pants may be.

Cristiano is perfectly concentrated on James. His robe hangs loosely open, showing a part of the divine bronze chest behind James’ shoulder. He looks like a decadent porn king like that, any minute ready to get his cock out and be pleasured.

In a fun, sleazy way it suits him.

Cristiano breaks from the kiss softly; the moving light flashes from his diamond ear stud when he tilts his head slightly to catch Gareth’s eyes.

“Gareth, are you good to walk? Could you bring the lube from the bedroom?”

Gareth doesn’t think his ankle hurts that much anymore. “I can”, he says.

He comes back with the bottle and places it on the other end of the table, stage, whatever the sturdy slab of black marble is.

James grinds his butt to Cristiano’s front to the music and looks down on Gareth from the table. Shit the wet t-shirt boy looks hot.

“That’s like the parley kits all over again”, Gareth says, grinning.

“Shut the fuck up, Gareth”, Cris and James grunt in unison. “Never remind me of them”, Cristiano says.

“The only game I’ve been happier to watch than play”, Gareth says and notices it’s one of the rare times he’s been able to make fun of his injury.

Cris kisses James again. Gareth gets on the table on his knees. He grabs the hem of James’ wet top between his teeth and slowly peels it off the skin as far up as he reaches. It’s so clingy it sticks there. Gareth kisses the tight, flat stomach; it’s cool and damp from the water of the soaked shirt.

Gareth pulls James’ briefs down with his hands, kissing his way down the thighs. He sees Cristiano undress James’ shirt and let his own robe slide down on the table and further on the floor.

Cristiano kisses James’ neck and shoulders intensively, biting. He travels down James’ back, kissing both sides of his spine in their turn; he steps carefully down from the table and goes on to nibble and peck James’ buttocks for a while until he gently pulls James’ hips, guiding him on his knees on the table.

James is now level with Gareth who seizes the opportunity, cups James’ face with both hands and starts kissing him softly, tenderly. He’s a bit afraid James would like it rougher but Gareth doesn’t feel like it, not yet, at least.

Cris goes on kissing James’ ass, spreads and licks it; James wants to push it up and back and detaches from the kiss with Gareth, lowering his chest down. Cris uses his tongue, making a tiny swirling spiral around the hole in a way that makes James shake and shiver; he helps the entrance with a finger, pulls it off from the way of his lips that he presses on the ass, kissing and sucking to get James soften and open, goes on with his tongue.

James is flushed red, hisses and moans, squeezes Gareth’s hands on the other side of the table; the Welshman has had to step back from the table, he sits on the floor, caresses James’ hands, kisses them occasionally.

Cris lifts his face, asks Gareth for the lube. Gareth hands him the bottle, Cris clicks the cap open, pushes lubed fingers in, James moans to the touch compliantly, wanting more.

“So good, James”, Cris praises, and James pushes his ass back, fucking his fingers, wiggles for extra stimulation; he’s so ready.

Three of Cristiano’s fingers are inside him. Cris presses a kiss on his buttock, another one on his back. “Are you ready to be fucked, James?” he asks softly. “Yes-yes”, James pants gruffly.

“James, babe, how about if Gareth does it? Would you like it? I’d love to see it. I’d love to see you do it.”

If that’s an unwelcome surprise, James doesn’t let it show, neither does Gareth; James just needs a cock up his ass, soon, right now, if possible, and Gareth definitely won’t say no to the spectacular ass, hell, he does gladly give it a try if he gets a chance.

Cristiano curls his fingers. “Yes?” he prompts, waiting for an answer.

“Ohhhffuck- fuck, yes”, James sighs, voice hoarse from arousal.

Cristiano signals Gareth to his side but he’s already there, preparing his cock with lube. The table is obscenely convenient for this: when James is on his all fours, his ass is pretty much on Gareth’s crotch level, which gives little chance for any further procrastination.

James’ ass is plush and tight and he lets out the sweetest little growls that escalate to curses and moans when Gareth starts moving inside him. Cristiano looks at them mesmerized, snapping to his senses only when he hears his own name. “Cris, come here”, James pleas, “Cris, I wanna touch you.”

Cristiano moves to the other side of the table; James lifts himself leaning to his straight arms and tries to curve his panting lips to a mischievous smile. “Cris, babe, kiss me”, he says, and Cris squats and bows down for a devouring, frantic kiss that is, although hungry, little more from James’ side than breathing and panting to Cristiano’s open mouth.

Cristiano is sure James can do more than that. He lifts James’ chin with a couple of fingers and sternly guides the tip of his cock to touch his lower lip, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

James nods, takes the head in his mouth, makes a move for more. He notices he’s liking this more than he thought he would, maybe more than he should, the feeling of being filled up, being used. He lifts one hand to grab the base of Cristiano’s cock to pull him closer, to show that Cris _can_ come closer.

The sight turns Gareth on more than he’d care to admit, he wouldn’t have thought he’d be so into it, since it is, well, such a porn cliché but maybe the effective ones become clichés, this one bloody well is. He pushes deep, and when he hears how James’ moans of pleasure get suffocated by Cristiano’s cock the sound goes straight to his and oh dear fuck, he’s close to coming the second time for the night.

When he does, he pulls out and deliberately lets the slicky liquid smear James’ cock and balls because then they’re nice and warm and slippery for him to jerk the sweet boy off. Some drops down to mess up the table but what can you do, on a night like this one is bound to spill some.

And when Cristiano comes, he does it down James’ throat because that’s the best way he can think of right now and he seldom, if ever, settles for anything but the best.

 

They crawl to the sofa from and around the table, sprawl there in a comfortable pile to recover.

“Bed time”, Cristiano says finally.

“Where did you put my ankle support, Cris?” Gareth asks.

“Do you need it?” James asks.

Gareth thinks about it for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. I think I’m fine.”

“I said you are, Gareth.” Cristiano says.

James chuckles at them. “Stop being so cute, you two.”

 

 

**_Homeless heroes_ **  
**_Walk the streets of their hometown_ **  
**_Rows of zeros_ **  
**_On a field that's turning brown_ **  
**_They play baseball_ **  
**_They play football under lights_ **  
**_They play card games_ **  
**_And we watch them every night._ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources of the quotes:
> 
> 1\. Throw Your Hatred Down  
> 2.-4. I’m the Ocean  
> 5\. Downtown  
> 6\. I’m the Ocean
> 
> \--  
> Neil Young was actually scheduled to induct Pearl Jam, the very band that plays on his Mirror Ball album, to Rock'n'Roll Hall of Fame on Friday but will be replaced by David Letterman due to illness. Spokesperson says it's nothing serious, I hope it isn't.
> 
> \--
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it! Whether you liked or hated, I'd love to hear it :)


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